Midas at the Gulf Coast, by Jennifer Davis Michael

Black gold once fueled the fantasies
that sealed us off in cars, in airtight houses.
We blew up plastic rafts, wore nylon
costumes on pristine beaches.
Coppertone swirled off children’s shoulders
in rainbows, innocent.
Now our oily thumbprint marks
the pelican’s egg, the dragonfly’s wing.
In our dyspeptic nightmare,
we are the fish with gaping mouths
and straining gills, inhaling darkness.
Like Midas, now we can’t escape
our own polluted touch.
We turn the kitchen tap, and oil flows out.

–

Jennifer Davis Michael is a professor of English and Creative Writing at the University of the South in Sewanee, Tennessee, and the author of two poetry chapbooks, Let Me Let Go and Dubious Breath. Her work may be found at jenniferdavismichael.com.

© 2025, Jennifer Davis Michael